


Not Friends

by nana_banana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s1e09 Wolf's Bane, Language, M/M, Missing Scene, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Threats of Violence, tense situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nana_banana/pseuds/nana_banana
Summary: When Peter proves to be too much for Derek to take on by himself, he joins him. When Peter threatens Stiles, Derek thinks quickly on his feet.





	Not Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I was always bothered by the fact that we never saw how Stiles got away from two werewolves, so here's my take.

In the reception area, Stiles inched behind the desk, shaking like a leaf. The roaring, crashing, and _monologuing_ had stopped. The hospital was silent, and his heart was racing. Gulping dryly, he opened his mouth, Derek's name quavering on the tip of his tongue. But the word never left his lips.

_“Derek said he can't take the Alpha alone,”_ Scott had told him. _“He needs me.”_

Stiles' heart thudded harshly in his chest. There was a good chance that Derek was dead and his psychotic uncle was victorious. A whimper fought to escape him, but Stiles shoved it back down in fear that he would be heard.

_I was supposed to play tonight,_ he thought. _Dad was gonna come watch me play. This was supposed to be my night, the night I proved myself to every asshole who ever looked down on me._

But instead, Stiles was in the hospital, about to die by claws and teeth.

But he could not think about that right then. He had to escape and tell Scott. Maybe even get his father involved —

_No,_ a voice inside Stiles adamantly refused. _I am_ not _involving dad in this!_

He breathed shakily, braced against the faux wood of the counter. He needed to get the hell out of there. _Now._

Taking a deep breath, Stiles listened intently for a moment more, assured in the silence.

_Maybe he's gone,_ Stiles prayed. _Please let him have gone._ He clenched his hands, steadying them against his thighs. Slowly, he moved them to push against the wood of the counter, using it to quietly lift himself off the ground. As soon as he had gotten his knees under him, Stiles steeled his nerves and sprang up. He whipped around, ready to make a run for his Jeep and instantly froze.

Peter Hale stood just on the other side of the counter, smiling serenely.

“Hello again, Stiles,” he said. “I'm glad you decided to stick around.”

_I'm gonna die,_ Stiles thought. _This is it. Derek's not coming to save me again. This is really it._

“Oh, my god,” Stiles breathed.

“No,” Peter said good-naturedly, “just me.”

Stiles' breath left him in a whoosh and he took a slow step back. Peter's smile grew and he lifted a hand, his nails slowly lengthening into claws.

“I think Scott needs a little push in the right direction,” Peter said, and Stiles felt the blood drain from his face, “don't you … Derek?”

Shocked still, Stiles' insides twisted in a strange combination of surge of hope and dread as Derek stepped into view, dirtied but unharmed and scowling as usual. He was _alive._

“You're alive,” Stiles blurted in relief. “You're not dead. You're —” He stopped. Derek was not looking at him, his gaze firmly on the floor between himself and Peter. “You're with _him,”_ Stiles breathed in angry disbelief. “You're with the Alpha?” Stiles was disgusted. “He killed your sister! What's wrong with you!”

“Enough,” Peter said, and before Stiles could even scream, he was right in front of him. Peter lifted his hand in a threatening motion. “Say goodbye to Derek, Stiles —”

“Wait.”

Stiles' heart stuttered in his chest at the sound. His eyes flitted briefly to Derek and back to those threatening claws inches from his throat, anxious to keep them in view.

Derek's head had shot up to look at Peter directly.

“He's not worth killing, uncle,” Derek said. “Scott's the one we want. Killing his _best friend_ won't be productive in getting him to join the pack. And right now is the perfect chance to get to him. He's playing a lacrosse game. If we leave now, we have a chance to talk to him. Convince him to join you” — Derek quickly corrected himself — “us.”

And though a large threat was currently aiming at his throat, Stiles stared at Derek. His scruffy, scowling face was serious rather than petulant, and his gaze was hard, barren of emotion. He did not look at Stiles, green eyes unwavering.

Several emotions swirled inside Stiles, and his thoughts whirled even harder. He squinted at Derek, noting the clench of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders. His body language screamed anxiousness, but Stiles could not comprehend why. It was not until Derek's eyes briefly flashed towards him that an inkling of realization struck him.

Stiles' stomach flipped.

_Is he trying to_ save _me?_

Peter turned his head to look at Derek, and finally, Stiles looked at Peter. _Really_ looked at him. He was shocked to see that the burns had disappeared. They had covered most of his face, but now they were gone, like some kind of dermatological werewolf magic.

“I see your point,” Peter said before looking back to Stiles with a dangerous leer. “But he knows too much.”

“I don't, really,” Stiles found himself saying. “I know nothing about anything. Nothing in _this_ head. Zero, _nada_ , _niets_. Really, I'm as apprised as a guy who lives under a rock —”

“Do you think he's aware that he's still speaking?” Peter conversationally inquired, and though he was looking at Stiles, it was obvious he was not speaking to him. In answer, Derek snorted, rolling his eyes.

Abruptly, Peter glanced back at him, seemingly caught off guard by the sound. And by the startled look on Derek's face, so was he. In a second, he cleared his expression and the usual glower returned.

“Trust me,” Derek said, a familiar sneer emerging on his lips, “babbling is all he can do. He's weak and defenseless. That's why he's never been first line and why he'll never amount to anything —”

“Hey, fuck you very much!” Stiles snapped. His insides stung with Derek's words. It was bad enough that jerks at school said those things to him and that he thought them from time to time, it was worse that Derek Hale, a guy Stiles had grudgingly come to _almost_ respect, was spitting out all his insecurities at him to burn like acid on his skin.

“Face it,” Derek growled, and his face hardened into steel, “you're nothing.” He turned to Peter. “Just some sad little teenager, clinging to Scott because he has no one else. Leave him. We've got better things to do if we're going to finish what you started.”

“Why not turn him?” Peter suggested, a considering look in his eye. “Even if he's not much right now, he _could_ be —”

“If you're going to turn someone,” Derek said stiffly, the area around his green eyes pinched with something Stiles could not describe, “pick someone strong. _He_ probably wouldn't even survive the turn.”

The indignation that sparked in Stiles' veins lit his anger, and he stupidly opened his mouth, ready to snark back. Except there were Derek's eyes again, flashing to him, the look in them strange and … for once in Stiles' life, he closed his mouth. He did not know why, but something in his gut told him to hold his tongue. To let Derek's insults slide.

And so, Stiles remained silent, closing his mouth with a click.

With that, Derek turned on his heel and marched away, leaving Stiles alone with a smirking Peter.

“Well,” Peter said, and he turned as well, “looks like you're not worth my time. See you around, _Stiles.”_

He walked away at a more sedate pace, and Stiles stood with nothing but seething rage and the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

* * *

Peter joined Derek out in the woods, humming as they made their way towards the high school.

“It was a good show,” he said.

“What?” Derek bit out.

“But next time,” Peter said, “just tell me when you don't want me to kill someone. Much easier. Pretty sure your little friend will never forgive you, even if you did just save his life.”

Derek stopped in his tracks.

“He's not my friend,” Derek snapped.

“Hm,” Peter uttered thoughtfully, “could've fooled me. Why else did you try so hard to keep him from my claws?”

“He's not my friend,” Derek repeated firmly. “We need to hurry if we're going to talk to Scott.” And with that, Derek resumed his trek, ignoring his uncle's delighted laughter as he followed.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [floreswrites](https://floreswrites.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [nanadanonini](https://twitter.com/nanadanonini)


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